


Time

by thewiselittleowl



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewiselittleowl/pseuds/thewiselittleowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Roxy, sleep is a battle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time

**Author's Note:**

> Homestuck is my latest fandom, and boy am I in deep. Playlist I used while writing - http://8tracks.com/thewiselittleowl/staring-at-the-cracks-in-the-wall

1am. Sleep is hard to find. It taunts and tempts from the shadows, adding haziness to thought, and blurriness to eyes. The silence is filled with buzzing, like a radio untuned. The emptiness crackles, as thoughts sluggishly slide, attention glancing briefly on them before touching upon others. Movement is prolonged and extended, as if swimming through water. But thoughts still come, haziness not a hindrance. The less pleasant thoughts begin to grow in number, pricking and slicing the mind. The mind flinches, trying to avoid them, wanting them to leave. They continue, sharp and unpleasant. 

  
2am. The tears finally arrive. They feel warm, the only thing the body feels. The wetness is a mystery, spurred on by unknown causes. _Think Roxy_ , they whisper. Those thoughts are pushed away. Those thoughts are not ones to be remembered. The tears do not stop. They trickle and leak, marking pathways that will soon be scrubbed clean in an attempt to forget. If only they could permanently be forgotten. 

  
3am. A dry mouth, begging for liquid is a cruel reminder of the bottle of liquor stored under the bed. A hand moves sluggishly, and soon the dulled sensation of a burning coolness is felt. The body hardly recognises it, except for the mouth once again dampening. Eyes stare, glazed over as the bottle is tucked away again. A tongue runs softly over cracked lips. The moisture is welcomed. 

 

4am. The stillness of the air is unwelcome. Hot and sticky, there is no break. Light sounds of movement stir the air, yet another hindrance to the sleep so dearly craved. Chest barely rises, crushed by thoughts breaking down the mental barrier. The wall crumples, and the sudden influx brings on slight shuddering, the body shivering, and fingers twitching. The tears are all spent, however, and glassy eyes remain dry. Teeth chatter, and arms wrap tight around the body, an attempt to hold oneself together. Each thought is a nail, driven deep, guilt and despair the hammer to ensure it holds. Lips softly murmur, a nonsensical babble of please and apologies, gushing and flowing with no sign of slowing. The feminine voice cracks, interrupted by irregular gasps and whimpers. Any stop, any end would be welcome. Just let it stop. 

 

5am. The warm glow of a message is appreciated. The soft light of the phone fills the room, and bloodshot eyes snap towards it, longingly embracing the interruption of self loathing. Stiff fingers slowly unwind from their tight grip, and stretch towards it, desperate for the brief reprieve of mental agony. The soft light brings warmth and love, as the message is greedily devoured by pain filled eyes. Gently the form cradles the phone, and finally sleep calls. The temporary respite is embraced, as the mind slips into unconsciousness, healing itself piece by fragmented piece.

 

It will all be shattered and undone again soon enough. It always is.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not sure if I like this, but it's a new style of writing that I'm quite enjoying playing with. The text message is probably from one of her friends, who also can't sleep (going through what they do, it wouldn't be surprising)
> 
> As always, you can find me at thewiselittleowl on tumblr, where feedback, headcannons and just general fangirling is appreciated.


End file.
